The Dinner Guest by B Walter (best short books to read txt) 📕

good decision. It had been one of those pivotal moments from which you can see all future events spin off as a result. It was dangerous, definitely ill-advised, but in the end, brilliantly effective.

I knew from my conversations with Matthew at the book club that Titus went to Westminster School as a day student. And being in Westminster, I figured I couldn’t be far from him. Maybe I could just be passing, I thought, or taking a look at a touristy landmark and offer to walk him home, or watch to see if he got on a bus or tube back to Chelsea and then ‘happen’ to be in the same carriage as him. I felt the blood start pumping within me, and before any firm plan had properly crystallised in my head, I found myself walking along Grosvenor Road and towards his school.

It took me just over twenty minutes, due to me taking a wrong turning somewhere, but I got back on track, and by the time I got to the school there were indeed students walking about, laughing and chatting. I was struck by how … well, how ordinary they all looked. They didn’t look like posh kids. They were dressed in the same sort of blazer and tie students at my old state comprehensive wore in Bradford. I looked at them carefully, watching out for his light-blond hair, smooth, clear skin, and straight back. But no luck. The students were starting to thin out now, and I was left watching the stragglers, standing by the ancient stone buildings as the sound of traffic filling the nearby roads hummed along in the background.

The whole thing had been a stupid idea anyway, I thought. The chances I’d have seen him would have been slim, and even if I had, would he have wanted to speak to me? We’d barely spoken when I saw him in his home. He probably wouldn’t have even recognised me.

I walked up the unusually narrow road away from the school in a bit of a daze, hoping I was walking in the general direction of my home. I started to become aware of two people walking slowly in front of me, so I went to go round and pass them. Then I felt my heart leap. It was him. He was here, right here, in the street in front of me. Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, engrossed in conversation. I carried on walking past them, so as not to draw attention to myself, crossed the road, then stopped for a bit, stooping to look at my phone and holding a tissue to my nose. I don’t think they even glanced in my direction. I waited for a bit, then stuffed my tissue and phone back into my pocket and started to follow them.

The hand-holding began on the underground at Westminster station and continued most of the way to South Kensington. From my seat, opposite and four to the right, I could see her moving their clasped hands slowly, teasingly, up his thigh. And he grinned at her, as if wanting her to continue. How dare she? They were on the District line, not in the back row at the cinema. And, although I couldn’t be sure, I suspected the girl was a little older than him. They were around the same height and she carried herself with confidence, clearly leading the way, making the decisions, guiding him. She was attractive, I’d give her that, with deep-brown hair and a tall, slim figure. But there was something in the way she looked at Titus that I didn’t like. As if she had a little pet plaything that amused her. His face was happy and excited, clearly thrilled to be in her company, wherever it may lead.

At South Kensington, they both stood up at once, and it took me a few seconds of panic to scramble out of the packed tube and get out onto the platform in time to see them disappearing up the steps. I walked a good few yards behind them as they came out onto a little pedestrianised space, with a Paul bakery and Five Guys restaurant opposite. My journey following them took me past Imperial College London and the Science Museum, and part of me was even grateful for accidentally getting to see a new side of London – places I’d heard of but never visited. I turned off the main street and onto Kensington Gore, all the while keeping my distance, terrified they’d both suddenly turn around and say, ‘Why are you following us, freak?’ But they didn’t do that. And as the road curved round, the view of the Royal Albert Hall came into view. I think I even stopped and stared for a bit, then had to hurry along, fearing I’d lose the two teenagers within the crowd of people walking towards the Hall. When I’d reached the pavement near the houses, Titus and the girl were nowhere to be seen. I’d lost them. Then, as I looked around, furious with myself, I saw them. They weren’t on the pavement anymore; they were going up to a building – a house – and the girl was letting herself in with a key. She lived here, it seemed. Right here, on Kensington Gore, with the Royal Albert Hall within spitting distance. And Titus was following her inside.

I thought that was it, then. I thought everything was over. What had I hoped for, anyway? That he’d leave the girl at some point in his journey and go off for a walk on his own? It was clear from the start they were some sort of couple, and this made it blatantly obvious what was going on. My stomach turned, thinking about what might be happening up there in one of the rooms of that big terraced house – itself probably worth more than half a street of houses in Bradford. Then I checked myself. It could all